


Hey Brother

by PhoenyxNova



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Gabriel (Supernatural), Angel Sam Winchester, Angst, Angst and Smut, Archangel Gabriel (Supernatural), Archangel Sam Winchester, Fallen Angel Gabriel (Supernatural), Gabriel (Supernatural)-centric, Gabriel/Sam Winchester-centric, M/M, POV Third Person Omniscient, Possessive Gabriel, Protective Gabriel (Supernatural), Ruler of Hell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-08-18 22:09:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20198980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenyxNova/pseuds/PhoenyxNova
Summary: Samael disappeared before the apocalypse, supposedly dead by Raphael's hand. Gabriel, distraught, has fallen and now rules Hell in Lucifer's place. Just as he thinks he has put Samael's memory to bed, he finds a familiar face in the dungeons. What can he do? Is it too late for him to be saved? Samael must learn this, and quickly.





	1. Do You Still Believe In One Another?

It had been a long time since Gabriel had followed his elder brother’s lead in falling from Heaven, but he could remember it like it was yesterday. Raphael taking the only happiness he’d felt since the First Fall, his rebellion, his wings scorched to uselessness, his horned halo shattering… Barely a day went by that he didn’t think about it. 

Samael didn’t deserve to die, and he’d only died to make a point. _Years_ had passed since Gabriel found his revenge in killing Raphael, and he still didn’t feel as though he’d found justice. Lucifer aided in his ascension to the throne of Hell, where he comfortably ruled, answering only to Lucifer himself. 

He was taking a stroll through the cells of souls waiting to be tortured when he passed a faint light. A light that shouldn’t be there. The most impossible light that had ever graced Hell. Grace, in fact. 

He stopped and ran back to the source. A familiar face he never thought he would see again, and some demon decided to put him behind bars. He’d have to deal with that one later. 

“Sam?”

He flicked his wrist and the cell opened. He rushed over to his brother, desperately trying to find out if he was alright. 

“Sam, can you hear me?”

Samael had found himself trapped within a realm’s Hell before, but never chained in his own. Certainly, he’d been there before—on a rescue mission, yet he needed rescuing at this juncture. Demons came and tortured him, but kept their distance. He was, after all, an archangel, and they were correct to fear him. His Grace might eventually recharge if he could get away from this place.

The door of his cell opening, rusty metal scraping against bloody stone, and Samael cringed where he sat, eyes firmly closed. Had the demons returned yet again? Instead, a worried voice, smooth and familiar, met his ears. He opened his eyes to see his brother, hovering over him.

“Gabriel,” Samael breathed, his name like the sweetest prayer upon his lips. He stretched filthy hands towards him, eyes glassy and voice thick with emotion as he touched his face. Fingertips ghosted over cheekbones, thumb tracing the outline of his jaw.

“Why are you here in this awful place?” he croaked, unable to keep his voice even. “Have you come to rescue me?”

Gabriel’s hand found Samael’s, squeezing it affectionately. Filthy as it was, it really belonged to his lost brother. His eyes flicked over Samael’s face, confirming for himself that the vessel truly was Samael’s, and the grace was indeed the brother he thought he’d lost so many years ago.

He forced a smile, eyes tearing up. This wasn’t how he ever dreamt he’d see his brother again. This wasn’t how this was supposed to happen. He forced his head to nod. 

“In a manner of speaking? Yes.” He knelt down a bit closer to Sam and helped him up. How could the demons throw an angel into a cell and not tell him? Those responsible would be punished severely. “C’mon. Let’s get you cleaned up." 

He helped Sam into his chambers, praying to Father he wouldn’t notice how cold Gabriel was. As often as he’d dreamt of the day Samael would show up on his doorstep, this wasn’t something he wanted. He didn’t want the only brother he would die for to know how far he’d fallen.

As he leaned heavily upon Gabriel, stumbling blindly through the dark hallways of ash and stone, he only barely heard the angel speaking to him. Something about cleaning him up… Of course, Gabriel had always taken care of Samael, and his lips stretched into a warm smile, despite his haziness. Yes, he trusted Gabriel. All would be well, now.

Gabriel laid the angel down on his bad, the most comfortable surface he could get him to, and ordered a couple of demons to bring him some healing supplies. “Sam, how are you here?”

When he collided with a soft, plush bed, confusion momentarily clouded Sam’s mind. Had they already flown from Hell? He had not felt the lurching rush in his gut which signified flying, nor had his powers returned. But Gabriel remained with him, talking to others as he lay with his eyes closed (opening them made him too dizzy, and it did not seem as though they were in any further danger)… and he _did_ feel faint and exhausted. Samael trusted Gabriel, and knew he would not let his guard down anywhere unsafe. It had been so long since he’d been able to extend that sort of absolute trust, but he did it easily.

The archangel had anticipated questions of his presence, so he forced his mind to focus from its dizzy haze. “Raphael did not kill me,” he rasped. “He used an old rite and banished me to another universe, burning through most of my Grace to eject me. Travel between universes is random and uncontrollable, and…” He blinked slowly, the room too-bright and painful. “I have spent all of my time trying to return, Gabriel… But it took a long duration for my wings to grow anew. I… feared you may be dead, all this time.”

He swallowed thickly, anguish clenching his heart, frigid and stone-heavy. “Oh Gabriel, I would have returned sooner if I could… I have thought of nothing else but returning all this time. I have been so alone… I tried _everything_ to contact you, to send some sort of message, but nothing worked…”

Samael stretched a trembling hand to where he thought Gabriel stood, desperate to have contact with the one he loved, with the angel he’d fought so hard to return to. He would tell Gabriel he loved him when an opportunity arose. Perhaps when he’d rested a while, and when his beloved had opportunity to adjust to his return. Samael had left things unsaid before his exile, and would not leave them unsaid any longer.

For the first time since his grace had gone cold, Gabriel had to blink back tears. Samael was alive. Raphael hadn’t killed him. The thought creeped into his mind that he’d fallen for nothing. He had been so distraught over his beloved’s death that he’d taken Lucifer’s throne and waged war on his brothers. He broke his own code of honor.

He had to keep telling himself that it was not for nothing, though he wasn’t sure if he believed it anymore. He’d told so many lies, he wasn’t sure what truth was. 

He knew he could easily level Sam off with his own grace, but the thought terrified him. He had become so corrupted, he feared mingling his grace with the archangel’s would corrupt him as well. He couldn’t let that happen. No matter how badly he wanted to feel Sam’s warmth, he couldn’t risk it.

He quickly got to work on the spell to revitalize Sam’s grace, forcing himself to smile. “I wouldn’t let myself die,” he said. “I had to get back at Raphael for what he did. I wasn’t going out until I’d done that.”

He let his hand hover over Sam’s forehead, hesitating for just a moment before touching him. Gabriel was cold, and he was very aware of the fact. The longer he held his hand there, the better the spell worked to heal his beloved’s grace. 

“I’m so sorry, Sam,” he said. “I’m sorry for everything.”

At first, the hand upon his forehead felt soothing and cool, a pleasant counter to Samael’s fevered, sweat-slick skin. He felt his Grace begin to knit together under the power of Gabriel’s spell, and his lips drew upwards in a smile. To feel his hand upon his forehead yet again… it felt like paradise, like a sweet, clean drink of water after a long drought.

As his Grace rebounded and began to heal his injuries, he all at once became aware of the frigid chill of Gabriel’s hand. A shiver meandered down Samael’s spine, and his senses told him something _felt_ wrong. Yes, the angel before him was, in fact, Gabriel, but he had changed in some strange way.

His eyes snapped open, taking in the vision of Gabriel hovering over him, palm still flush against Samael’s forehead. His true form became readily apparent—fallen, dark, and twisted with destruction and Hellfire.

Samael did not intend to gasp, staring up at Gabriel slack-jawed and wide-eyed. Nor did he intend to scramble from the bed to the opposite side of the room in a sudden burst of terror and confusion. Yet, he did exactly those things, his breathing ragged and painful as he looked on, trembling. He’d leapt away before Gabriel’s spell had reached its conclusion, but even with his Grace lacking, he could see so clearly what his brother had become.

This wasn’t Gabriel, the Messenger of God, the bright golden archangel he’d fallen in love with. This was Gabriel, the fallen archangel, King of Hell.

And yet, Samael knew the very feel of Gabriel’s Grace, corrupted or not, and it was so clearly his beloved angel who stood before him, twisted into a cruel and dangerous creature. Of all the possible situations he’d thought might develop in his absence, he had _never_ anticipated this.

Any other angel, Gabriel would have killed instantly for reacting that way. He’d have taken direct insult that his efforts to help were that unwanted. He would have ripped the angel’s grace out and kept it on a shelf as a warning to the demons that dared question his place on Hell’s throne.

But this wasn’t any other angel. This was the angel the Messenger threw his horn away for. This was the angel that Gabriel would have gladly fallen long ago for. That he’d do anything for. 

Perhaps that’s why this hurt so much. The absolute terror in Samael’s eyes broke the fallen angel’s heart in ways he never thought anyone could manage. It was emotions like this that he tried so hard to steel himself against. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t be the cold ruler of Hell around the archangel. With his beloved angel there, he could feel home.

Overcome, Samael fell to his knees and wept. “Gabriel,” he croaked between sobs, “what happened? You… you…” A terrifying thought occurred to him just then. “This… Is this my fault? Oh, Gabriel…”

He did not know what to expect. Would Gabriel hurt him? Would he hold him prisoner? He was at Gabriel’s complete mercy. How had his beloved changed? Would he punish Samael for his long absence? And yet as he sobbed, mourning the awful fate which had befallen his brother, he could not bring himself to flee, even as his belly roiled in fear. It was still his Gabriel, his beloved.

Gabriel just couldn’t piece together why Samael didn’t flee. He had enough energy to fly away. What was keeping him here?

“It’s not your fault,” he said. “It was Raphael’s fault. He found out that….. He banished you to get to me. He gave me no other choice!” He couldn’t bring himself to see the disappointment on his brother’s face. He stayed where he was, a safe distance away from the angel that had no idea he held his heart. 

He finally looked up to catch his brother’s gaze, more the angel he used to be than he’d been since he fell. 

“Please believe me,” he managed in barely more than a whisper. “This wasn’t something I ever wanted. All I ever wanted was to remain in Heaven … with you." 

He slowly approached his brother, holding his hands up to show he meant no harm. “You could stay here. With me. Heaven is in shambles. Raphael saw to that before I fell. We could make a difference here.”

Slowly, Samael stood, eyes red-rimmed and breath coming in ragged heaves. Could so much change in a few short years? Heaven in ruins? The throne of Hell sat upon by a holy archangel?

His wings fluttered in panic as the other angel approached. Samael could take flight, of course, and leave Hell behind. Gabriel had not blocked his path of escape, and Samael felt himself again considering it. If Heaven truly lay in shambles, then he could go there himself and restore it. But… for whom? For what purpose? To rule Heaven himself? And Samael knew Gabriel well enough to know if he ran away now, he might never be welcome in his presence again. The idea felt unbearable.

“It is not too late,” he said. “We can both leave here, together. I can… I can restore your Grace…” But even as the words left his lips, he knew well what he saw. Gabriel had been twisted forever, his form pulsing with an irreversible darkness. And Samael did not have the strength left to heal him.

In the end, it was no question. He had run himself thin and ragged over the years, desperate to return home to Gabriel. And Samael yet loved him now, despite the terrible complications. He had done everything for Gabriel before… and would have fallen for him without question, had he asked. And now, Gabriel had asked. His beloved had asked, and Samael did not have the strength to say ‘no,’ despite everything.

Trembling in fear, he moved to stand directly before Gabriel, dropping to his knees. He took Gabriel’s immaculate hand in his filthy grasp, kissing the back of it in adulation before releasing it, bowing his head low.

“My King,” he murmured, submitting to Gabriel, his voice moist and shaking

The Fallen Archangel wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Was he expecting Samael to run away? To fight? To laugh in his face? Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t this. He didn’t expect his brother to kneel in submission, and now that it had happened he was sure it wasn’t what he wanted.

He dropped to his knees and lifted Sam’s chin so he could gaze into the eyes that once set his heart aflame. Gazing into those eyes, he felt warmth for the first time in years. “Please don’t kneel.” He sank down until he was looking up at the angel. 

“I’m not asking you to fall,” he said. “I could never forgive myself if you fell because of me. All I’m asking is that you don’t leave me. I don’t want you to do something you don’t want to do, but I don’t want you to look at me differently. I’m still me. I know I’m past salvation, but …”

The words got caught in his throat. He’d wanted to say these three words for centuries. He took a deep breath and decided this may well be the last time he ever had a chance to say it.

“I love you, Samael. I always have. Losing you made me into something I never wanted to be. At the risk of sounding every bit as needy as I feel, I think having you around might be exactly what I need." 

He cupped Sam’s face in his hands, keeping his touch as gentle as possible. He couldn’t bear it if his beloved ran away from him. 

"You have a choice, and I will respect any choice you make. You can return to Heaven… or stay here. I just wanted you to know how much you mean to me.”

Gabriel loved him? Truly? Samael’s eyes watered and his throat constricted as he gazed into the amber eyes he’d dreamed of for so long. Did it matter where they were together, be it Heaven or Hell? He decided it didn’t, and threw his arms around Gabriel, burying his face into the crook of the fallen archangel’s neck.

“Gabriel,” he breathed, leaning heavily upon him, “returning to you… the thought alone has kept me sane these many lonely years. I would not have had the stamina to continue on my weary journey had I not held you dear in my heart.”

He dared to place a soft, gentle kiss against the chilled skin of Gabriel’s neck, his massive, snowy wings enfolding both of them on instinct. “You are my beloved, Gabriel. I do not wish to be separated from you again. I do not entirely understand what has happened, but I shall remain by your side so long as you wish it.”

Gabriel could feel his heart soar in ways he no longer thought possible. He let his arms slide around Sam’s shoulders, catching a glimpse of the snow white wings. Tears sprang into his eyes. He wanted so to embrace Sam in his own wings, but they were so tattered and useless, he was ashamed to show them. 

He nuzzled his cheek into Samael’s hair, relief setting in that he hadn’t lost the angel that held his heart in his hands. He kissed the other’s cheek, smiling the first genuine smile he’d managed in years. 

A moment passed, and he took a steadying breath, allowing his eyes drift shut. “I have missed your nicknames dearly, no matter how I used to complain of them. I will always be your Sam.”

“Be my consort,” he suggested. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you getting lost in the shuffle. Sit side by side.” He pulled back enough to touch his forehead to Sam’s, golden eyes revealing no sign of manipulation. No, in that moment, he felt nothing but love for the archangel in front of him. 

It was remarkable. Truly. Just when he thought there was no going back, he felt like his old self again. Maybe his hopes weren’t misplaced. He offered a smile, pushing a lock of hair out of his love’s eyes. “What do you say, Sammy? Will you be the balance I need?”


	2. Do You Still Believe In Love, I Wonder?

Samael sighed when Gabriel’s lips brushed his cheek, a flush of contentment warming his vessel. He could not keep himself from reaching out and raking a hand through Gabriel’s golden hair, his fingertips dragging along his scalp. Now that he’d began touching Gabriel, he could not quite stop.

As far as his offer, his _question_… Samael shifted uncomfortably. He wished always to stay close to Gabriel, but…

“I have only just returned, and I know little of the condition of our world,” he admitted. Tension unwound from his body slowly as he relished the feeling of Gabriel’s forehead pressed against his own, and hesitantly admitted the other’s coolness felt soothing. “Angels were created to serve, and I am no different. I am a solider, and know not how to lead. I would make a better soldier, or a guardian. I fear I would make a poor consort to you…”

Despite his uncertainty, he allowed his arms to twine around the other archangel. The possibility of manipulation began to prod at him, that Gabriel might be using a silver tongue to whisper only the things Samael most desperately wanted to hear… but he did not care, not when the hope-starved, lonely years had changed him forever.

His eyes drifted to the thin line of Gabriel’s mouth, and he remembered countless times spent wishing he could touch those lips. In somewhat of a daze, the hand threaded in his blond hair lowered, and Samael’s thumb traced the outline of the shorter angel’s jaw. He relished the soft texture of his skin, the slight jut of his chin. He almost brushed his thumb along Gabriel’s lower lip…

No, he thought to himself, eyes sliding shut. A time and place existed for such things.

“But you’ve always known I cannot say ‘no’ to you,” he murmured, opening his eyes. “If it is what you wish, I shall do my best.” He drew heavy air in through his nostrils, but could not detect any trace of the scent he’d once associated with Gabriel. “I will not leave your side, in any event, not unless you send me away.”

Gabriel was intent on listening to Samael’s words. Beloved or not, he was still his brother, and deserved to be listened to. It was a courtesy he extended to no one anymore, but Sam would always be the light in his darkness. 

His focus began to trail off, feeling Sam’s soft fingers trailing along his jaw. The warmth sent chills down his spine, giving him hope that perhaps he might be able to feel that warm again. 

His eyes watched Sam’s lips, feeling the desperate need to feel those soft lips against his own. He recalled memories of Sam’s smile that could make his vessel’s heart stop. His thumb gently outlined Sam’s bottom lip as his eyes flicked back up to meet his.

“You know I cannot ask you to do something you would not willingly do,” he said. “You’re free to go if you wish, but you will always have a place here." 

His eyes fell back onto Sam’s lips, and he found himself unable to fight the temptation. “I’ve wanted you for as long as I can remember, Sam. I’m in love with you, and I know that love is just a shout into the void, and that oblivion is inevitable, and that we’re all doomed and that there will come a day when all our labor has been returned to dust, and I know the sun will swallow the only earth we’ll ever have, and I am in love with you.”

His lips pressed, ever so tenderly, into Sam’s, barely more than a brushing of skin on skin. Gabriel wanted so much more, but the lightest of kisses was enough to set his grace aflame. In that moment, he wasn’t the cold, cruel King of Hell he had become. For just a moment, he was whole again.

Gabriel’s words settled deep within his chest, followed by a flare of warmth Samael had never known before. He’d always hoped his dear companion returned his love, but to hear him expound on it so poetically… and without a shred of deception in his eyes… Gabriel did not seem wicked at all, and certainly did not strike him as a cruel, fallen angel. Not in the least—and certainly if he could love, he was not entirely lost. While it remained possible Gabriel’s kindness might only extend to Samael, his mind hovered on the possibility that he might yet find a way to return Gabriel to the light.

When Gabriel kissed him, he gasped, his lips tingling at the soft touch. All errant thoughts dissolved from his mind, and he could only stare back in wonder. When the other pulled away, Samael could not resist chasing him for another kiss. He needed the touch of Gabriel’s lips, cool and soft and perfect, more than he could ever describe. He threw his arms around him, pressing his lips against Gabriel’s several more times before lowering his head to his shoulder, drawing his wings around them both in a cocoon of white. 

“I will never leave you, then,” he murmured into his neck, wings drawing impossibly closer. “I merely fear I would not make a good leader. I do not feel worthy to lead, Gabriel,” he whispered, voice more than a bit strained. “I could serve you far better.” He paused, teeth worrying at his lower lip. “However, if you guide me, I… I am certain I could become proficient under your tutelage.”

The smooth, beautiful line of Gabriel’s neck proved far too tempting, and Samael could not stop himself from placing a kiss upon it. Once did not satisfy him, however, and he pressed his lips against cool, flawless skin once again. He trailed a line of soft kisses up the curve of his neck, and let his lips fall upon the shell of his ear. Samael pressed his nose into Gabriel’s hair, and sighed full and deep, his wings fluttering in contentment around them.

“I dreamed of this,” he said, voice barely a whisper. “Of being in your arms. Of holding you in mine.” Everything else felt minor in comparison. 

Gabriel felt his heart soar in a way he didn’t think was possible anymore. Hearing those words, knowing Samael wouldn’t leave him, feeling those lips on his neck… It seemed too good to be true. He could only pray it wasn’t a dream. Or worse, Hell finding a way to torment him.

His arms slithered around the angel, unable to resist the gentlest brushing of fingers against feathers. He missed his once spectacular golden wings, now ashamed to show them. Only one set had survived his fall, but the color had dulled so much, he couldn’t even bring himself to groom them. Sam’s wings were so perfect, he wanted to feel them under his fingers. 

His head leaned against Sam’s, blinking back tears of joy, however mixed in with shame they were.

“I dreamed of this moment for so long,” he uttered, fingers carding into Sam’s hair. “I just … never wanted it like this.” He clung to the angel, breathing his intoxicating scent. He still smelled like vanilla and spring air. “Now that it’s happened, I wouldn’t trade this moment for anything in the cosmos." 

He pressed his lips against Sam’s neck, longing for the other’s warmth like a drug. Everything about Samael was intoxicating, and Gabriel couldn’t get enough of it. As much as he wanted to say, he couldn’t fight the urge to continue pressing the most gentle of kisses up the curve of Sam’s neck, following his jawline to the other side of his neck. He worried his lip for a moment before tenderly sucking a mark into the angel’s skin.

He softly shushed Gabriel, a soft, throaty noise in his ear. "Fret no more, beloved. We no longer have need of dreams or extravagant fantasies. We have one another for all time. I do not wish to daydream any longer, for my imagination could never duplicate your elegance or your magnificent spirit.”

Samael felt a shiver meander down his spine at the touch of Gabriel’s hands in his feathers, and again at the press of lips against skin. Too overjoyed to restrain his breathing, he moaned softly when the other angel marked his skin. He’d not known such sweet touches in so long a time, and certainly, no other angel had ever touched his wings….

Ancient angelic mating rites sprang to mind—the sacredness of the gesture and the unspoken agreement that wings were only to be touched by one’s mate. Samael shuddered where he knelt, his body warming at the thought of Gabriel grooming and stroking hands through his feathers—how it would feel, what it would mean…

His own hands raked down over Gabriel’s back, the pads of his fingertips digging in through clothing. He massaged at tense shoulder blades, desperate to bury his hands in Gabriel’s wings… the wings of his _mate_. A terrible thought drew Samael up short: if Gabriel had fallen, his wings were likely in poor shape—if they yet had feathers at all. Had they had any care since the singeing flames of his fall? The most probable answer was no. Gabriel would likely not seek help, even if it were available (which it did not seem).

Well, no more of that. Samael would care for any of the angel’s wounds. Gabriel need not suffer with such things so long as he remained at his side.

“Please, show me your wings, beloved” Samael murmured into his ear. “I wish to groom them. I wish to be the _only_ one to touch them, ever again.” He smiled, drawing himself back to caress Gabriel’s face between his two hands, unable to resist another press of lips. “Do not worry. I shall tend to their wounds. They are sacred and beautiful, no matter what, and I love and treasure every part of you.” He scratched gently at his shoulder blades, then dug his fingers into the skin once again. Gabriel deserved a gentle, loving touch, he thought. 

Samael’s eyes drifted shut, and he could not keep his expression from drooping. “But I understand if you do not wish to.” The thought of Gabriel refusing left him feeling dejected, but he well knew the reasons he might say no, and he would respect them. So, Samael continued to massage the junction of Gabriel’s wing bone and torso, hoping if nothing else it would bring his mate comfort and pleasure.

Samael’s words rung in his ears, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. He had his brother back. He had the one angel he would die for here in his arms, after the odds had stacked against them from the start. The impossible had been made a reality. He had no more reason to escape into his dreams, when all he could ever want sat kneeling in front of him with his wings shuddering under his touch. 

Angelic mating rituals leapt to mind, and Gabriel felt an odd desire to tend to the wings in a manner more tender than he thought he was capable of. A moment of panic set in when he questioned whether he could handle the snow white wings delicately enough, but it dissipated when he realized Samael wouldn’t let him touch his wings if he couldn’t. It was small, but it was reassuring.

Panic crept back into his mind when he felt fingers against his shoulder blades. A plea to see his wings and his heart nearly stopped. His wings weren’t in good enough condition to showcase to his beloved Sam. His heart plummeted when his thoughts spiraled. What if this was the deciding factor? What if not being able to show his wings meant he was not an eligible mate? What if he did show his wings, but Samael rejected him because of their condition?

His lips began to mouth the words, ‘_I….. I can’t.’_

No. Sam wouldn’t do that to him. He couldn’t let himself believe that. Not when they were so close to the happily ever after he’d longed for. The look on Sam’s face and the feeling of fingers on the very base of his wing was enough to clear his mind of such negative thoughts. It wouldn’t be fair, to expect Samael to let him touch his wings while refusing to reciprocate the gesture. 

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Without a word, he rested his chin on the other’s shoulder. Hearing the creaking of his wing bones as his wings unfurled themselves was enough to make him self-conscious. He didn’t want to look at how horrible they’d become.

His primary wings were the only ones that even vaguely resembled what they were. His secondary and tertiary wings were, while not entirely irreparable, horribly mangled from the fall and his subsequent corruption. The once beautiful gold color was now a muted yellow. It was horrifyingly humiliating, especially when his eyes fell on Sam’s beautifully bright wings. His gut wretched in shame.

Gabriel clung to his beloved, praying to a Father that had forsaken him that Sam wouldn’t leave. He wasn’t sure if he could bear being left in this moment of vulnerability. 

Gabriel clutched at Sam, drawn up into the refuge of the larger angel’s arms. His chin crooked around his shoulder as his wings slowly unfolded, bone and sinew groaning as they stretched—not quite to their full span, but their condition appeared so raw and ragged that Samael felt uncertain they even could.

It agonized him to see Gabriel’s wings in such painful, torturous condition. Samael did not know how the other stood the agony it must have brought him. But he could not allow his face to choke with emotion, not now, not when Gabriel huddled in his arms, the thumping of his heart resonating clearly enough he could sense it. No, he needed gentleness, and love.

“My beautiful Gabriel,” Sam breathed into his ear, lips brushing the skin below in the barest of touches. He reverently allowed a hand to reach out to pet one citrine wing, his fingers buried in feathers, and could not stop a noise of contentment from escaping him. As his hand stroked gently, the texture of the feathers between his fingers sent a powerful shudder through his body, skin crawling with possessiveness. 

“Mine,” he growled into the angel’s ear, louder than strictly necessary. Samael pulled him closer. He needed the proximity of his mate, the press of his body against his own. “All mine,” he repeated, raking his hand through yellow feathers with a bolder motion, lowering his head to Gabriel’s shoulder to graze teeth at the junction of the neck. “Tell me I am yours, Gabriel… Please…”

He babbled, overcome, but did not care. It took a moment to regain control of himself, remembering that Gabriel’s wings were in no condition for his increasingly firm touches. Samael commanded his breathing and heart to slow, and pulled himself away from the other’s grip. His mate’s wings needed grooming and healing, and Samael would not allow such a painful state to stand. Standing over Gabriel, he glided behind him and dropped to his knees, his massive palms settling on the other’s back.

“Forgive me, I… I was overcome. Allow me to groom them properly,” Samael said, his voice strained with the need to pull his angel close to him and never let go. But his concentration would be needed—it was obvious Gabriel’s wings had not been groomed in years.

He took a steadying breath, and began work on the first primary wing. He carded gentle fingers through the neglected wing, freeing dead and mangled feathers, and tenderly working loose mats of feathers stuck together. One patch of reddened, bare flesh hugged a joint of the wing bone, and Samael could not resist pressing his lips to it, allowing a whisper-smooth breath of Grace to pass into the wing. He nodded in satisfaction as he observed the effect—those feathers would grow anew. He pressed one more soft kiss to the area.

“Forgive me if this grooming causes you pain,” he murmured, voice quavering. “I seek only to heal you.”

Samael did not know how it felt for the other—Gabriel’s brief touches to his own wing were his only guide, and that had felt most pleasant. He wondered if his touch could have the same effect on the other angel, if his caresses felt pleasing… or painful.

But as for Samael… his fingers trembled with the low pulsing of Gabriel’s Grace, electric and sensual and enjoyable beyond description. He forced himself to go slowly, to shower his love and healing upon those magnificent wings, but when each stroke sent a jolt of lust swirling within his vessel, it became difficult.

He faintly realized he was speaking—_had_ been speaking the entire time, muttering praises and endearments to his angel. He paused to press a kiss between the angel’s shoulder blades, smiling against his skin. “So beautiful,” he whimpered, overcome by the coolness of his skin, by the yearning which threatened to swallow him whole. “My beloved, you are magnificent… Oh, Gabriel…”

He pulled away and moved on to the second primary wing, giving it the same treatment. As he worked dead and singed feathers free, Samael began to trace the arc of bone with his lips. He kissed and licked at bare patches of flesh, and once even buried his face into feathers, sighing, hot breath threading through feathers and over skin. Gabriel smelled of iron and fire, but underneath remained a hint of sunshine and the sweet smell of candy. Samael forced himself to draw back, and his hands trembled more with each passing moment. Even his own wings twitched behind him. But he needed to do this for his beloved.

When Samael finished, he moved on to the secondary and tertiary pairs, removing blackened feathers and soothing creaking bones and painful joints with surges of warm energy. He lingered over each joint, kissing membranes of skin stretched too-tight over bone with moist lips and a holy embrace. His fingers tenderly massaged damaged, unused muscles, allowing his Grace to flow into Gabriel’s wounds freely. By now, he’d migrated so close to Gabriel that his chest pressed nearly flush with the other’s back. The angel could likely feel Samael’s trembling, the tattered panting of his breath, the hard press of his groin against his back, but he was beyond caring about properness. If Gabriel did not appreciate it, he would rebuke Samael thusly.

When finished, he pulled trembling hands away, his own wings fluttering behind him, desperate for the touch he’d just imparted upon his mate. But Samael could forget his own desires for the moment; push away the need to feel Gabriel’s fingers tangling in his own feathers. Right now, he existed for his mate’s needs. Still quivering, he rested his head upon Gabriel’s shoulder, kissing his neck as his arms encircled him from behind.

“Beloved,” he murmured, “I pray I did not cause you pain.” He bit his lower lip, the lull in sound or action making him nervous. “I can repair your secondary and tertiary wings over time. With more care and grooming, they will be restored. But they should not cause you pain any longer, not now.”


	3. If the Sky Came Falling Down For You

Gabriel had huddled into Samael, prepared for the rejection his pitiful wings would surely bring upon him. With every passing second spent in silence, he braced for his beloved to stand and leave, wondering why he hadn’t left quite yet. 

Then he was met with soft encouragements and kisses. He breathed, unaware that he’d been holding his breath. Relief washed over him.

His wings flinched upon the initial touch. They had grown so used to the tortures of Hell Gabriel had to suffer through in order to prove himself to Lucifer. Violent winds ripping his feathers out, bombarded with rain and hail, torn at in combat, broken from confinement in a stone coffin, rotten from wading through boiling blood, singed from a torrent of fire in the desert of blazing sand … and that wasn’t even the worst of it. Every pouch of the Malebolge had taken their toll on his poor wings, and Lucifer himself insisted on keeping Gabriel in the City of Caina for a period of time as punishment for betraying his kin.

He feared his wings would never again know the gentle touch of a mate’s hands, and was content to live that way during Samael’s absence. 

Then the word “Mine” was snarled into his ear. The King of Hell shivered slightly, wings weakly pressing into the hands that caressed him. He so desired to return the favor, to grab Sam’s hair, tug him forward, and kiss him to remind him who belonged to who. The touches to his wings, however, clouded his mind of rational thought. He was left, wordlessly and noiselessly accepting the attentions. Even the boldest of touches sent waves of pleasure across Gabriel’s entire being, for even the boldest of touches were still miles more pleasing than what his wings had gone through.

It wasn’t until Sam stood and moved to kneel behind him that he realized what effect those attentions had on him. The second they were not in direct contact, he felt like a junkie looking for his next hit. He needed that contact. He needed his mate. Still overcome with pleasure, he found himself unable to speak. 

Feeling his wings being groomed for the first time in Father only knew how long, he allowed himself to close his eyes and breathe. He could let his guard down. Feeling the small traces of grace seep through his bones filled him with a warmth he wasn’t used to anymore. He almost felt normal. He could let himself relax for what was quite possibly the most intimate petting he’d ever received in his life.

When he felt Samael circle his arms around his waist, he leaned back into him. The hardness of the groin pressed against his back only drew attention the arousal straining in his own pants. He stretched his wings out, already impressed by the renewed range of motion.

But lord… he needed to return the favor.

Without a word, he turned to face his beloved, kissing the angel passionately. His hips pressed against the other’s, hands grasping the base of Sam’s wings. Fingers trailed up the bone, desperate to feel the texture of the other’s feathers. 

His mind clouded so with lust, he was not lucid enough to offer a proper grooming. He could, however, do what he could to massage each and every muscle he could. Starting at the joint of the other’s wings, he kneaded down to the base. From the base of the wing, he kneaded down Sam’s back, and back up his sides to his shoulders.

His head dipped down to bite into the juncture of Sam’s neck to his shoulder. The idle thought passed through his mind that he may be being too rough on the angel. If that was the case, he was confident Samael would let him know thus. His immediate concern was showing appreciation for everything. 

“Mine,” he finally managed to let out, voice husky with lust. “All mine, always." 

His hands abandoned their work massaging the larger angel. One hand chose to grip the thick mane of hair to pull him in for another passionate kiss while the other strayed to grip Sam’s rear, holding their hips together. A moan peeled from his lips as he rocked the evidence of his affections against his beloved’s. 

When Gabriel wordlessly seized him, kissing him soundly, a whimper spilled from Samael’s lips. His fingertips dug into the soft flesh of Gabriel’s back, and… he had a plan for what to do next, but all thought evaporated from his head when the other began to stroke his wings.

It felt like pure rapture, unbridled and all-consuming, lifting him higher and higher on waves of euphoria. His wings twitched and fluttered underneath firm, rough kneading, and when teeth dug into his shoulder, stirring an oddly pleasing twinge to cascade throughout his body, Samael could only throw his head back and cry out. Too much stimulation washed over him like a wave of burning bliss, amplified a hundredfold because the body against his own belonged to his beloved mate.

When Gabriel growled ‘mine’ with a dark, lusty edge, Samael just whimpered in assent. He opened his mouth to groan, to reply with ‘yours,’ but Gabriel had tangled a hand in his hair and drug him down for another fierce kiss, his hips rocking wantonly against his own. The delicious friction subsumed Samael, leaving him delirious and ravenous and breathless. He returned the kiss as well as he could, rutting back against the other brazenly, hardly knowing what to even do with his hands.

Samael writhed in the arms of the King of Hell, with their tongues tangled together and bodies pressed so close it was difficult to know where one ended and the other began… and Samael _loved_ it. He would have it no other way, and could not fathom a madness which would ever convince him to leave Gabriel’s side. Never before had he loved one as this, and never again would he devote himself so entirely.

He managed to snake a hand between them, palming Gabriel’s erection greedily through clothing—far, _far_ too much clothing. He thumbed at the button of the other’s slacks, his long, deft fingers loosening the zipper. Nearly as soon as the waistband loosened, Samael slipped his hand inside, wrapping trembling fingers around Gabriel’s cock. He thumbed the head, messy and leaking, and began to stroke him, his grip firm but his motion slow. Samael wished to hear his mate keen and moan with his pleasure, to bring him to a release so powerful he’d never consider choosing another mate over Samael, not for all eternity.

Then the thought of kneeling before Gabriel, taking him into his mouth in admiration and worship, sent a delicious shudder through his limbs.

Samael hesitated, however, for he had never quite done any of this before. What had been the point? He had not taken a human vessel until only a few years prior, and even before then he had loved the golden archangel above all others. But now he lamented his inexperience, and worried he might disappoint his mate. He hoped what he lacked in practical experience could be bridged by his enthusiasm and desire to please Gabriel… and perhaps the other would not notice. 

The former Archangel’d had many mates and lovers before. He knew exactly what to do to please his partner in whatever way he needed to. His experience prepared him enough that he would know precisely which bundle of nerves to gently caress, and which patches of flesh to dig his nails into. 

He was never prepared to be on the receiving end of such passions. With his true mate, no less. 

Lost in the passion of their coupling, Gabriel lost track of what his hands were doing. All he knew for sure was that he didn’t care what happened with the rest of the world, as long as this was where he was. Hell could crumble around them, Heaven could collapse, Earth could burn, and Purgatory could be unleashed on them … and he wouldn’t bat an eye. He had his mate in his arms. He had all he’d ever wanted.

All coherent thought he might have had blinked away as soon as he felt Sam’s hand palming him. Reluctantly, he pulled away from the kiss, gazing blearily into his mate’s eyes. His hips rutted against the other’s hand, desperate for more friction. His fingers curled around the base of Sam’s wings, desperate for something to hold onto.

When the stroking began, he felt his whole body warm, as though his grace was set aflame. Never before had he ever felt this way. He flushed, allowing an impassioned moan to peel from his lips. Father above, he wasn’t prepared for this at all.

Even his expert hands trembled as they worked to rid Sam of his shirt. Fumbling one too many times with the buttons, Gabriel decided that they were wearing far too many clothes, and he wasn’t patient enough to rid them of such obstructions in the traditional way. He needed to be able to touch his mate’s flesh _now_. 

With a snap of his fingers, they were both bared to each other. The fallen’s wings fluttered in delight, betraying his clouded eyes. He wanted so much to pleasure the angel that wouldn’t reject him. He wanted to show his appreciation. He wanted to do everything that came to mind, but Sam’s hand on him was enough to make him melt into a quivering, moaning mess. 

“Love you, Sammy,” he whined out, breathing becoming more labored with each passing second. His hands buried themselves in the other’s feathers, having delighted in the sounds of pleasure he’d elicited from him earlier. 

Fingers carding through the feathers once more, fingertips barely ghosting over the joints, fisting into the downy feathers, kneading at each muscle. Simply having his hands in the other’s feathers sent an addictive sensation down his spine.

When Gabriel clutched at the base of his wings, Samael was lost. Amber-gold eyes gazed within his, clouded and overcome, and all at once they were divested of clothing. He vaguely remembered hearing Gabriel snap his finger, maybe, but such trivialities were of no importance now.

His mate thrust eagerly into his hand, whimpering and moaning, and Samael might have spared a moment to enjoy those noises if he hadn’t moaned himself an instant later. Gabriel’s fingers threaded deep his feathers, grabbing and stroking and massaging, and noises were torn from Samael’s throat without his permission, his wings trembling with the pleasure of it.

It took a moment to catch his breath, a feat made nearly impossible with those clever fingers wringing shocks of pleasure from his wings. Samael slowed his motions, removing his hand entirely from Gabriel. He kissed his mate deeply, slowly, his other hand threading in thick, sweaty hair.

“I love you, Gabriel,” he murmured against his lips, smiling.

Gathering his courage, he resettled himself on the floor, his fingernails digging into the skin of Gabriel’s hips as he scooted himself into position. Eventually, his face hovered near the other’s knees, and he grazed his teeth lightly upwards. Samael kissed his thighs; the wing of his hipbone; the soft skin of his belly. Wrapping one hand around the base of Gabriel’s cock, he lapped at the head with his tongue, then closed his lips around him, swallowing him down slowly. He worked his mouth up and down, maintaining his careful pace, his broad tongue licking the underside. He paused a moment to suck lightly on the head, pressing his tongue into the slit before taking him in fully once again.

His other hand ghosted touches over Gabriel’s hips and thighs; traced the line of his spine down to the curve of his ass; held the soft weight of his balls in his palm. Yes, Samael decided he enjoyed that, so while his mouth worked his hot, thick length, his hand squeezed and massaged him, careful and soft.

He knew his gentle, slow pace might drive Gabriel mad, but Samael could not stand the idea of hurting him by accident, especially when he had never done this before. He wondered briefly if he were even performing acceptably, but the hands in his wings distracted him, and he moaned around Gabriel.

He felt nearly driven to madness by his own need, and could not keep whimpers and groans from vibrating in his throat as he pleasured Gabriel. Crouched on his knees, he twitched and writhed but had no friction, and became desperate to touch his own cock. But his hands had other important things to attend to, like the hot weight of Gabriel on his tongue and the little noises he made when he palmed his balls.

He wanted to do this for Gabriel. He wished to feel him shatter under his hands and lips, to taste him heavy on his tongue and know his mate would always be his. Whatever needs Samael had, they would come second, at least in this moment. 

Gabriel had been left breathless and twitching when Sam’s hand left him unfulfilled. His gold eyes met the other’s for a moment before it slowly registered that Sam was moving slowly down his body. 

His jaw hung open, watching his mate’s movements, completely overcome with desire for the other man. He tried to focus on each motion of Sam’s tongue, but he was already trembling. He wanted to be able to pick out each sensation, but with each whimper, pleasant vibrations set his nerves on fire. 

His fingers moved from wings into long hair, massaging his mates scalp as he bobbed onto him. Moans peeled from his mouth, hips twitching to buck into the other’s mouth. He tried to control himself. If it were anyone else with their mouth on him, he’d take advantage in a hot second. But this wasn’t anyone else. This was the only person that mattered. 

The longer Sam was on his length, the harder it was to control himself. Every sensation he felt was so perfect, he couldn’t help it. He slowly started rocking his hips into his mate’s mouth. Slowly, gently, begging for more. 

His wings tensed up, the pleasure building up more and more in his gut. His whole body was trembling. He slowly realized that he was talking. Babbling, to be more accurate. Babbling in Enochian, affectionate words of love mixed in with the nonsense. 

His hips moved into Sam’s mouth a little more feverishly, though he restrained himself enough to keep his motions gentle. His breathing becoming more labored, hands finding a grip on his mate’s mane of hair. He pushed deeper into Sam’s mouth, crying out in a moment of passion as he released. 

As he pulled himself away, he dipped down, passionately kissing his beloved. He wanted to taste himself on the other’s tongue. He slowly stroked himself back to attention. He wanted to show the same affection to the man he loved. 

When Gabriel’s hands moved to thread in his scalp, Samael almost sobbed in relief, his over-stimulated nerves singing. The things his mate did to his wings felt amazing, but with his own arousal thrumming hot through his veins and no immediate way to relieve it (for he refused to remove his hands from Gabriel’s body), the pleasure had become almost unbearable.

Soft whimpers and babbling words fell from the other’s lips, and when he began to thrust into Samael’s mouth, he felt equal parts relieved and overjoyed. His mate seemed to enjoy this. His beloved Gabriel found pleasure in his touch.

Then the fingers in his hair tightened all at once, and Gabriel cried out, spilling hot over his tongue. Samael had been caught somewhat unprepared, and had he been a human he might have choked. He quickly recovered, swallowing his warm, bitter release, relishing the taste of his mate thick on his tongue. He pulled his head off, licking the length of Gabriel’s cock to catch all traces he’d missed.

Then Gabriel shifted away, and Samael had a half-formed worry he’d done badly before the other kissed him soundly, tongue sweeping into his mouth. He moaned against Gabriel’s lips, his arms trembling as he pushed himself upright. Crushing Gabriel in a tight embrace, Samael planted kisses along the top of his head, whimpering softly when his cock brushed Gabriel’s hip.

“Was that was acceptable? If not, I can improve. It’s that I… I’ve never…” He pressed his face into golden hair as he flushed, unable to finish his sentence. His hands tangled in Gabriel’s beautiful feathers, mussed and unruly from their activities. He knew he’d have to groom them again, and the thought made him smile despite his embarrassment. There existed no simple way to tell Gabriel he did not precisely know what he was doing (and drawing upon the memories of his vessel could only carry him so far, especially with no personal experience in the matter), so he did not. Gabriel would put it together himself. And hopefully his mate would overlook his inexperience, and allow Samael to pleasure him again.

He glanced down to see Gabriel stroking himself again, and a whimper fell from Samael’s lips. Almost instinctively, he rolled his hips against his side, gasping at the spike of pleasure. The position was not optimal, but Samael needed Gabriel; needed to feel the touch of his skin. Never had he known such a feeling; never had he felt such pleasure.

Rutting mindlessly, he began to moan gibberish, interspersed with begging. “Gabriel, I… I _need_… Please…” Samael could not exactly put to words _what_ he needed, but rocking into Gabriel’s flank, while pleasant, did not feel like nearly enough. 

“You were amazing,” he answered. He could put two and two together and figure out that Samael had never performed these acts for anyone. It gave him an almost inflated sense of happiness that he was Sam’s first, and hopefully his only. It was true that the way he’d been sucked was a little obviously inexperienced, but they had an eternity to get the hang of things.

He was pulled from his thoughts when he felt Samael rutting against his side, begging for … something. The sheer desire on his mate’s face drove him to oblige. With no instructions, he did what felt natural.

He turned to press his chest against Sam’s, kissing him passionately as he pushed the other to lay on the ground. As soon as his back was about to hit the cold floor, however, Gabriel’s wings flapped once. They appeared on the bed and the former Archangel placed himself at his mate’s entrance.

He curled his fingers around Sam’s length and began stroking, slowly pushing himself into his mate. He adopted a fairly quick pace, but tried to make sure each movement was still gentle. He could never forgive himself if he hurt his beloved. 

Samael only knew his mate’s lips and the touch of his skin and the sound of his breath—nothing else existed. The warm press of their bodies together as Gabriel pushed him to the floor. He felt rather than saw the flutter of wings, and then his back was not upon the cold stone at all, but the soft cushions of the bed.

His hands splayed upon Gabriel’s back, and he meant to move, to kiss him…. _something_, but then a hand closed around his length, stroking him, and Samael became a mess of noise, his hands scrabbling for something to hold onto. Then he felt his mate pushing inside, and he was just lost.

He writhed upon the sheets, his voice keening and moaning, wings rippling behind him as pleasure tore through his body. Later, he might spare a moment of unreasonable jealousy for Gabriel’s obvious skill—that others had done this with his beloved—but Samael’s mind was lost in a storm of pleasure. Gabriel thrust inside of him and his hand stroked him and it was _wonderful_. Samael wrapped his fingers around the junction of shoulder and wing bone, his long arms buried in golden feathers as he held on desperately.

“Gabriel… Beloved,” he whimpered, unable to control his voice. Samael’s vision sparked white at the edges every time Gabriel pushed inside. A tingling low in his belly bloomed, and Samael dug his fingers in harshly in Gabriel’s wings as he came, spilling hot over the other’s hand. He collapsed back against the sheets, completely spent and somewhat faint, his hands sliding down to massage Gabriel’s wings far more gently. 

With all of the Archangel’s experience in hedonism, he was not prepared for the intensity of the pleasure he felt in his coupling with his mate. With each touch of a wing, the brush of skin on skin, the sound of such delicious passion spilling from Sam’s lips, warmth pooled in Gabriel’s gut.

Sweet Christ, he wished he’d had confessed his love long ago. To deny himself this for so many years seemed foolish and short sighted. He wondered why he would let himself perform these acts with anyone else when he could have saved himself for this moment with this man. The way their bodies fit together, the sound of Samael’s voice, the way their grace mingled in even the most subtle of ways. He never, in a million years, would have expected this kind of intimacy from anyone. He might actually pray to God for forgiveness in delaying this moment. 

Feeling the other’s hands clinging to his wings, he knew his release wouldn’t be long to follow. Especially after hearing that cry of ecstasy accompanying Samael’s climax. Within a few more thrusts, he emptied himself into his mate.

He shakily laid next to Sam, wings sprawled behind him on the bed. He panted, trying to catch his breath. He barely noticed that he was covered in a thin layer of sweat. It didn’t bother him, though, like it usually would have. He wrapped gentle arms around the other, forgetting that he was cold. He needed the touch of his mate.

“I love you, Sammy,” he breathed. “I love you so much.”

The chill of Gabriel’s touch felt welcome and pleasant against Samael’s heated skin, and he mindlessly wrapped long arms around the shorter angel, pulling him flush against his chest. With a thought, the mess between them vanished, and Samael allowed his eyes to drift shut, listening as his mate once again declared his love.

“And I, you, Gabriel,” he murmured into his hair, smiling and content. “I cannot define my love for you, not in mere words.”   
  
He raked a hand through golden feathers, a small chuckle spilling from his lips. “I shall have to groom them again.” He made a small noise of pleasure at the thought, and at the eventual thorough grooming he might receive in return. “You may have to hide your wings from me. I find myself unable to stop touching your feathers.”

A twinge of worry spiked heavily in his gut at the thought his mate might have other consorts, or that Samael might not satisfy him. He had to trust that Gabriel would tell him, though…  
  
“I want to do that again,” he slurred, blinking heavy eyes and pressing a wet kiss into his temple. His arms tightened. “I want to be the only one you touch. I want to be yours and you to be mine.”  
  
His eyes drifted shut, not asleep, but resting well after Gabriel’s healing spell. Presently, he became aware of the chill of his beloved’s skin once again, and it worried him. Did it cause Gabriel pain? 

“You are cold,” he murmured against golden hair. “When my Grace is restored, perhaps if I share some with you, you can warm up… If you wish it, that is.”

Gabriel let his eyes slip shut, for the first time in a long time feeling comfortable enough to sleep. He basked in his mate’s warmth, humming in delight at the gentle touches his wings were receiving. He wanted more groomings. He wasn’t entirely sure if his wings would ever be the way they were, but Sam’s hands on his marred flesh were incredibly soothing.

His arms around Sam tightened, almost possessively. “You’re the only one I ever want,” he murmured. “You are mine, and I am yours.” 


	4. There's Nothing in this World I Wouldn't Do

He was about to respond to the suggestion to warm him up, but a twinge of fear crept across his mind. What if Samael’s grace mingling that close with his own would corrupt him? He couldn’t let that happen. He may have been the Adversary, but he hadn’t fallen so far that he would wish this coldness on anyone else.

“Don’t worry about me,” he said. “I feel warm when you’re near. That’s good enough for me." 

Samael exhaled, a thread of discontent winding through his throat. “It is not good enough for me,” he responded, voice soft and somewhat slurred. “I want to mingle my Grace with yours, beloved. I do not care if it has gone cold. Mine can keep us both warm.” His voice trailed off, nervous. Worried. “Unless… you don’t want mine…”

Samael tried to swallow down the worry. Gabriel had already told him he was his one and only mate, and he trusted him. He pressed another kiss to his temple, sighing softly. Perhaps Gabriel resisted for another reason. Perhaps he feared his Grace might have a corrupting influence on Samael? 

His fingers continued to stroke through citrine feathers, occasionally moving down to lightly scrape fingernails along the flesh of Gabriel’s back. He dug fingertips into the muscles supporting the wing bones, massing and loosening them before threading his hands back into his mate’s wonderful wings. Samael absently wondered if his curious, greedy touch was too much, considering Gabriel was likely exhausted from sex, but he could not still his hands. He needed contact, touch… everything.

He entertained a brief fantasy of awakening Gabriel in the mornings this way, then remembered that the other probably didn’t need sleep the same way Samael yet did.

“What now, Gabriel?” he asked. “I know nothing about Hell under your rule. You must teach me what to do…” He swallowed thickly, a worrisome thought occurring to him. “Lucifer, is he… did he escape the Cage? Is he here?”

At the insinuation that he wouldn’t want his mate, Gabriel looked into Samael’s eyes in an attempt to dissuade any notions that there was anything less that he desired than all of him. “I want you,” he said. “I want all of you, from now until time stops. Even then, I would hold up the sky if it meant staying with you.”

He took a deep breath. He wasn’t used to being vulnerable anymore. He knew he could trust Sam not to hurt him, but there was that sinking feeling in his gut that his one weakness would be known. Still, he continued. 

“I’m scared to death that mingling our graces will lead to your corruption. I could never forgive myself if that happened.” He kissed Sam passionately. “I don’t know if I can be fully healed, but believe me when I say that your ‘death’ was the reason for my fall. I believe you are also my reason for salvation.”

His eyes closed and a hum escaped his throat as his wings had attentions lavished upon them once more. He’d missed this kind of touch, and was grateful that his mate was willing to nurse them back to health. He could not ask for a better mate than Samael.

“Don’t worry,” he cooed, brushing a thumb against the other’s cheek. “Lucifer’s still in the cage. He’d hardly put me in charge if he wasn’t.” He offered a smile, though he wasn’t sure how comforting it was. “A demon named Crowley ruled before me. I offered him a position as my advisor. With his input and Lucifer’s expectations, Hell works less to corrupt innocent humans and more on punishing those that refuse to repent.”

His heart warmed in the presence of Gabriel’s declaration that he wanted him, even his Grace, and then plummeted to his stomach when he described his fear of corrupting him. Samael drew him tighter, returning the kiss. Slowly, he pulled away, running warm hands along Gabriel’s chilled cheeks, pressing a soft kiss to each eye.

“I understand,” he murmured. “Perhaps, after a time… if you feel you’ve healed some, you might reconsider…” He buried his face into Gabriel’s hair, breathing heavily. In truth, Samael didn’t care if he become corrupted by his mate’s Grace. But if Gabriel wished to be healed, and he thought Samael could do it… Yes, yes, Samael could do this for him.

He listened as Gabriel described the basic hierarchy of Hell. “Will Lucifer accept me here? What of the of the other demons? I… I would not forgive myself if my presence here put you in danger from rebelling demons.” 

He felt anxious. He had never ruled in Heaven, much less in Hell, and had no idea how to properly do anything. “I do not wish to disappoint you…”

Gabriel offered a smile. He wanted more than anything to be able to mingle their graces together without fear of corrupting his mate. To see the man he loved brought down to his level would break his heart. Not because of what Samael might become, but knowing he was single handedly responsible for corrupting the most beautiful angel in Heaven.

“Maybe once I’ve healed, I will reconsider,” he echoed, brushing Sam’s hair out of his eyes. 

“Lucifer will accept you. Despite what the other Archangels might have you believe, he still loves his brothers. The only reason he _let_ me fall was because I asked for his help.” He smiled a little easier. He was always known for defending the First Fallen, but he felt justified these days. “Don’t worry about the demons. They are easily handled.”

He pressed another kiss to his mate’s lips, unable to get enough of the contact between them. He wasn’t lying when he said just touching him made him feel more whole than he’d felt since his fall. 

"You won’t disappoint me. I promise you that. I will be here to teach you how to rule, even if all you do is help keep me a fair and just ruler. I know you’re capable.”

Samael pulled Gabriel tighter, burying his face in his hair again. “I missed Lucifer,” he admitted softly, his eyes sliding shut. “Saying so before, it… it would have been enough to incite Michael’s or Raphael’s wrath, but… I missed my brother.”

He returned Gabriel’s kiss, his fingers digging into his feathers deeper as the other comforted him, and assured him of his capability.

Samael sighed, pressing a kiss to Gabriel’s forehead, then dipping his head to kiss the tip of his nose. The skin felt chilled, like it might on a winter’s day, and Samael wished fiercely he could banish the coldness which plagued his mate.

All at once, he needed to be closer, moving over him and covering Gabriel’s body with his own. His fingers raked and massaged across wing and muscle with intent. He stole a kiss from his mate’s lips, then a second, then plundered his mouth apologetically, taking and giving as much as he could. Before, his kisses had been cautious and shy, but there was nothing tentative about them now. He wanted to take Gabriel, to pleasure him, to hear him whimper and cry out his name over and over again. 

Samael’s exhaustion and lust warred with him in equal swells—the desire to fall asleep curled against his beloved, or to make love to him again. Or, perhaps, he thought, make love to him again and _then_ sleep. Samael rather liked that idea, bringing one of his hands between them to ghost across the skin of Gabriel’s torso, offering him a chance to push him away. Gabriel was likely tired, and just because Samael felt greedy with lust didn’t mean the other wanted him _again_ at the moment.

Gabriel moaned softly into the kiss, the warmth he so desperately craved calling him for more. Lust battled his exhaustion, and he was almost sure neither would win. He was too tired to reenact their earlier coupling, but he was far too aroused to turn Sam down. Not that he would ever want to to begin with.

An idea occurred to him, though. Just because he was content to lay there didn’t mean Samael couldn’t take him. As his mate’s fingers glided across his chest, he brought his knees up to cradle Sam between them. His hips rocked against the other’s, his need now more apparent. In fact, the very notion that he could trust someone enough to dominate him had him leaking already. 

His hand slid up Sam’s arm to card his fingers into the other’s hair. He kissed his mate passionately, bringing his other hand up to thread fingers through those soft tresses. “You’re the only one I would ever let fuck me,” he said, voice husky with need. “I trust you.” 

Samael nearly gasped against Gabriel’s lips, his eyes blearily taking in the scene—Gabriel’s legs drawn up around him, his voice hoarse in his ear. He could not mean…

A surge of desire tore through him at Gabriel’s words—yes, he _did_ mean it. That… had not been precisely what Samael had intended. He’d thought to thrust against one another and revel in the friction, or to take his beloved in hand, and bring them pleasure together that way. But now that the idea had been planted in his mind, now that he’d heard Gabriel declare that Samael and Samael _alone_ could take him in such a way… That he trusted him…

He moaned softly against his mate’s lips. “Are you certain, Gabriel?”

But already, Samael had reached between them, his fingers ghosting over Gabriel’s hard length, past the soft weight of his balls, tracing the seam all the way to his entrance. He massaged the warm, tight skin a moment before pausing, a new desire unfurling in his lust-addled mind.

Scrabbling backwards, he lowered himself between Gabriel’s legs, pausing to press wet kisses along the length of his cock, all before gently encouraging the other to turn over on his stomach. He wasn’t going to make love to Gabriel like this, no… Samael wanted to be able to see his face when that happened. For now, he had something different in mind. Kneading and spreading skin until Samael could see his entrance, he leaned forward and licked, slowly moving his tongue against the flesh in broad, flat strokes. He continued, slow and wet and methodical, until he slipped his tongue inside, and concentrated on surging in and out, working him wet and loose.

Gabriel nodded his answer to Samael, words lost amidst the surge of pleasure that rushed through his body. As soon as he felt his mate’s wet tongue intrude upon him, he moaned louder than he’d admit to anyone outside this room. He didn’t require much further encouragement to roll onto his stomach. He could present his back to Sam. He could trust him that much.

The sensation of Samael’s tongue against his flesh set his nerves aflame. It soon had him rutting against the sheets, fingers curling into the pillows. He whined needily, fully aware of how odd the submissive sound coming from the King of Hell had to be. 

Samael could not resist a smile as his beloved writhed and squirmed beneath him, his soft noises of pleasure stirring heat low in his own gut. He wanted to wring more noises out of Gabriel, to hear him lost in his pleasure, but _only_ for Samael.

He slipped in a finger to work alongside his tongue, then two, massaging and stretching. But he knew it must feel like the worst tease, and for once, Samael did not feel terribly inclined to take his time. He pulled his tongue and hands free, and encouraged Gabriel to turn over again. pressing a wet kiss to his hip. He _could_ simply use his strength to force him over, but it felt somehow wrong in the midst of this dynamic they were building between them (though, he thought absently to himself, he would rather enjoy that sort of rough treatment himself).

“Gabriel, please,” he pressed another kiss to his hip, “On your back.”

After a moment, he plastered himself against Gabriel’s chest, kissing him deeply. He loved the feel of Gabriel’s skin, the smell of his hair… everything about him delighted Samael. Before, he’d thought it impossible to adore him more than already did, but touching him, loving him, and being loved in return… He thought his heart might burst from it.

He drew back, his hands settling on his beloved’s hips as he positioned himself at his entrance and slowly pressed inside. His hands petted and rubbed at Gabriel, on his hips and thighs and lower back, all in turn. When he’d buried himself completely, Samael had to bite back a groan—Gabriel felt _amazing_ around him, so different than anything he’d ever felt in his life. He knew how lost he must look, how wanton and needy as he gently pulled out and pushed back in, writing a throaty breath from his lips.

“Gabriel, is this… all right?” He began to thrust gently, and leaned down to kiss him, one hand snaking between them to close around Gabriel’s length. 

Gabriel happily returned to laying on his back, humming happily the instant Sam pressed himself to him. His hands traveled up his mate’s sides, finding a grip on the base of Samael’s wings. 

He was glad he found that grip, because all at once his nerves were on fire. He keened, head falling back onto the pillow as his hips rocked up to meet Sam’s. He was unmistakably hard again, and he was more than grateful to his mate when he began stroking him.

As wonderful as this felt, he knew he could offer Sam guidance. He only hoped it would be seen as constructive criticism and not taken to mean he was doing a bad job. 

Amidst the breathy moans, he managed to find his voice. 

“I need you to remind me that I’m yours every bit as you are mine,” he said, voice thick with need. “I’m a King out there. In here? I’m only yours. Don’t be afraid to be rough with me.” His eyes shut tightly, hips bucking up into Samael’s hand. His clouded mind quickly made his words more vulgar, but he needed more. “Fuck, Sam. Pound into me. Make me scream your name.”

Samael hummed next to Gabriel’s ear, his breath ragged. “Perhaps,” he breathed, “or perhaps not.” He sat up, slowing his pace even more, and released Gabriel’s length from his hand. He could not keep a blush from coloring his face, even as he grinned playfully. “I am not afraid to be rough with you, beloved, but I _will_ have you know that you are mine.”

He reached down to trail the pads of his fingertips along the underside of his cock, a very slight, barely-there touch. He lightly circled the swollen, messy head with his thumb, digging it into the slit firmly, just once, before retracting his hand entirely. He undulated his hips, pushing in an out of Gabriel in a slow roll. Samael moaned—it was difficult to go so slowly, but it _was_ more fun.

“You are mine. And because you are mine, I can make you scream my name, whether I am rough with you or not.” He shifted his angle, trying to find the spot he knew would make Gabriel keen and whimper underneath him. He ghosted his fingertips over his cock again, just enough to be the worst tease but not enough for him to ever find his release. “What do you think, Gabriel? Am I wrong?” 

Gabriel moaned needily. He dug his blunt nails into Samael’s back, all but begging for more. His hips rutted wantonly into his mate’s in an attempt to coerce more wild behavior, but he knew Sam well enough to know this was it, and he was completely addicted to it. 

Keen and whimper he did, climax building quickly with no promise for release. The build up alone was enough to leave him writhing underneath Samael. With every touch, he squirmed, hoping for a bit more contact, more friction, anything to allow him release. 

It was more difficult for him to find his voice now, but he managed to string together a few broken sentences. “Not wrong.” He clutched at the sheets, trying to resist the ever growing temptation to flip them onto Sam’s back. “P… lease,” he breathed. “Please more.” His hands flew from the sheets up to Samael’s arms, whining louder. He physically ached for more, and he delighted in it. He cried out his mate’s name, pleadingly, cock visibly throbbing in desire.

His eyes slid shut, and a low moan left his lips. The sound of Gabriel’s voice, pleading and whimpering in pleasure because of him… Samael had to stop his movement right then and there before he came from the sight and sound of his mate alone. 

He caught his breath, and curled over Gabriel’s torso with a cat-like grin. “Please more? More of what? More of this?” he asked, giving his cock the slightest of touches again, his hips rolling in and out at a snail’s pace. “Or more… as in this?” He punctuated the words with a powerful roll of his hips and a firm press of his hand against his cock.

Perhaps, if he’d had more patience or hadn’t already been so far gone, he might have drawn it out longer. But between his mate’s broken voice and writing body, and his own need, he could hold back no longer. He grunted with the force of his strong thrusts, hips smacking into Gabriel’s as he surged against him over and over again, his hand stroking his length firmly.

“You are so beautiful,” he rasped against his lips, moaning loudly. “I cannot deny you anything you ask, beloved…"

Samael’s own release nearly blindsided him, leaving him gasping and moaning as he spent himself inside of Gabriel’s body. His hand faltered for a few moments as he was overcome, but he quickly continued palming Gabriel, working him at a faster pace. He curled over his mate’s body, kissing him deeply. 

Gabriel moaned loudly, hands desperately trying to find a hold on something as his release built up again. They crawled their way from the other’s arms to their shoulders, nails digging in as he felt his mate’s warmth fill him. His hands finally settled on finding a grip on Samael’s hair as soon as their lips made contact. 

He rutted himself into Sam’s hand when the ministrations continued. It only took a few more moments for him to find release. He cried out in ecstasy, only barely muffled by the kiss, spilling himself over both of their chests. He broke from the kiss only to catch his breath and gaze lovingly up into Samael’s eyes.

“You are so perfect,” he breathed. He kissed his Samael, body relaxing into exhaustion again. “I love you so much.” He continued whispering declarations of love between kisses, reveling in the warmth of his mate.

He collapsed half on top of Gabriel, panting for breath, languidly returning every soft kiss and murmuring his affections. His hands curled around Gabriel’s face, brushing sweaty, blond hair away from his eyes, his thumbs tracing the other’s jawline. “My love, there are none living who could ever compare to you. Never send me away, please…”

Samael allowed his eyes to drift shut, resting his head on his mate’s shoulder. He hummed in contentment, tangling his legs with the other as he drifted closer to sleep. “Do you ever sleep?” he asked, voice thick and languid. “I have required it for several years, now…”

Samael thought to apologize for his weakness, for the span of time which would be lost by his slumber, but instead drifted off into the deepest, most fulfilling sleep he’d known in years. As he had done many times before, he dreamed of Gabriel, but this time he knew his mate truly lay next to him, warm and solid against his own body, and the dreams did not torment him. 

Gabriel ran his fingers through his mate’s beautiful mane of brown hair and breathed in his scent. He could feel his eyes grow heavy for the first time in his memory. Finally being in the arms of his mate allowed him the comfort he needed in order to sleep. His slowly healing wings curled around them and there they stayed while the fallen angel slipped off to the first sleep he’d ever had.

He woke many hours later, startled by the chill of his own skin. He’d dreamt that he’d never fallen and he and Samael remained in the furthest corner of Heaven, away from the fighting. Waking up in the master’s chambers in Hell was jarring, but the blow lost its sting when he realized his mate was still in his arms. He curled up closer to Sam, drinking in his warmth.

Time passed, and his pleasant dreams morphed into painful, frightening memories. He remembered leaping from world to world, lost and terrified that he might never find his way back home. He remembered nights spent curled up in frigid air upon wet concrete, hiding in abandoned buildings or the corners of unused buildings, as though he were a forgotten article of trash. An unsettling chill began to wind itself into his limbs, slowly drowning him in a frigid sea of water…

He awakened with a sharp intake of breath, his body jerking. He blinked several times, at first unsure of where he’d awakened. It was a lavish bedroom he did not quite recognize, and—.

Samael halted, glancing down to see Gabriel curled up in his arms, his skin freezing to the touch. At the sight of his mate, he remembered all that had transpired—Gabriel rescuing him from further torture, the sweet declarations of love, and the joining of their bodies in shared bliss. And finally, falling asleep, safe in his mate’s realm.


End file.
